The Riddles of Epsilon by Christine Morton-Shaw Page A

mentioned in Yolandë’s song.
    Ecclusad sounds a bit like Latin or something. But I looked it up in the dictionary and it’s not there, so it must be a name.
    As to cloves and tooth—well, on the other side of the paper, The Key mentions a tooth—a map to the tooth.
    Gotta go . . . Dad’s yelling up the stairs, yakking on about garden chairs or something. Why can’t They just leave me alone?!!! Back soon.
    Â 
    Later. Oh, no. What’s happening?
    Just ran downstairs, to find Dad in the garden, pulling stuff out of the shed.
    â€œSo there you are! At last—didn’t you hear me calling?”
    (Yessss!!! He’s talking to me again! Thank goodness for that.)
    â€œNeed a hand, Dad?”
    â€œI’ll say, kitten. Just wriggle your way in there, will you? You’re thinner than me. Gotta get those deck chairs out. Sorry, but they’re all the way at the back.”
    They were, too—seven, eight, nine, ten deck chairs! And one old bench.
    â€œWhat you doing, Dad? Having a party?”
    â€œNot me, worse luck. The doctor and his flaming Greet thing. Been here the whole week—every time I turn round, there he is again! Wants us to take these over, says half thevillage’ll be sitting on their thumbs if not.”
    I thought of Seb’s benches and settles, going to the Greet. My mouth went dry.
    â€œWhat’s up, old girl? Still feeling sick? Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to do this . . . . Your mother will probably have a fit!”
    â€œI’m fine. Really. So—don’t you like the doctor then?”
    â€œLike him? Course I like him! Seems like a decent chap. Just want to get on in the darkroom—I’ve films waiting to develop. No rest for the wicked, and all that. Okay—that the last of them?”
    I handed the last deck chair out.
    Just then, the garden gate went sneak! sneak! on its hinges, as it always does. We both turned round and watched Mom come up the path carrying a plastic shopping bag.
    She was wearing a dress! In the day! Now that is a first is all I can say.
    â€œTsk. Must oil those hinges,” muttered Dad. He stared at her, a little frown between his brows. Then she looked up and saw us watching.
    â€œHello, you two! Just had a lovely walk with Domino—right along the bay! His tongue’s nearly lolling out of his mouth, poor pet, and I could do with a cup of tea myself. What about it, Jess?”
    I was just about to say “Oh, why me?” when she openedthe bag and tipped it upside down—right over the flower bed.
    Shells came pouring out—hundreds of shells, of all shapes and sizes.
    She smiled down at them fondly. Dad’s mouth fell open.
    â€œDid you have to dump them just there?” he said quietly. “I rather liked those hollyhocks . . . .”

Chapter Eleven
    THERE ARE TWO PEOPLE IN THE CHAT ROOM:
    J ESS AND A VRIL
    JESS: You must be CRAZY!!!
    AVRIL: Oh, listen to you—after all the bunkum you’ve been going on about for weeks, I’m the one that’s crazy all of a sudden?
    JESS: Yes, but—to smoke pot at your mom’s house— no wonder she went berserk!
    AVRIL: Oh, don’t you start! How was I to know she was going to come back a day early? You should have heard her: How dare I throw a party when she’d trusted me to stay here alone, and that your parents had the right idea, to send you away from it all and get rid of the problem once and for all. She didn’t stop yelling for an hour!
    JESS: They didn’t send me away.
    AVRIL: What?
    JESS: My parents. They didn’t send me away.
    AVRIL: Course they did!
    JESS: They came with me.
    AVRIL: Yeah, more fool them. I mean, I can always send you some wacky backy. Where do they think they are, Timbuktu? If you want some drugs, I’m your man!
    JESS: Avril, have you ever come across the word “Ecclusad”? Or Ecclusad 5?
    AVRIL: That a